


Midnight Train To God Knows Where

by NalatteIceCream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, And yes he does but it is made out of silicone sorry not fucking sorry, Anyways I don't know how to tag things but i am trying, City Boy Lance, Country boy Keith???? Wh????, F/F, High School AU, Hunk has two moms as always, I hope you enjoy have fun go nuts all the shits, I just saw Lance has a large cock in the recommended tags, M/M, No Keith is not a virgin no Keith is not a slut, Uhh. Fluff? Fluffy? I'd say this has a pretty fluffy ring to it, Vitiligo! Lance has vitiligo, he is a simple country bumpkin who just wants to graduate and gtfo, klance, lbr dont we all, nonbinary pidge but be quiet they don't know that yet, trans klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 07:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18494125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NalatteIceCream/pseuds/NalatteIceCream
Summary: He smelled like late summer nights and autumn rains. Like fresh picked strawberries. Coffee. Like adrenaline and secrets whispered into the dark. Like an adventure waiting to unfold.He felt like home. A place I'd never known. So I followed him.-J.C





	Midnight Train To God Knows Where

**Author's Note:**

> He smelled like late summer nights and autumn rains. Like fresh picked strawberries. Coffee. Like adrenaline and secrets whispered into the dark. Like an adventure waiting to unfold.
> 
> He felt like home. A place I'd never known. So I followed him.  
> -J.C

“Keith!”   
  
  “ _Hnn.._ ”  
  
“Wake up, you’re gonna be late!”

 _“_ Fuck _...Fuck!”_  
  
“Language!!”

 

Keith is officially fucking done with his life.

 

     He's done with his shitty ass parents and their shitty ass arguments in their shitty ass rowhouse in this shitty ass small town city whatever. He's sick of his shitty bike not running so he has to use his shitty car to get to his shitty ass school full of shitty ass people who all have super tiny brains composed of two brain cells that they have to _really_ rub together when it comes to talking about _anything_ of value. Keith hasn't had a real meaningful conversation since he got here, and at first he thought it was just him. _Turns out_ , interesting conversations just don't exist here. At all.

 

     Which reminds him. He's sick of all these shitty conversations! Of working with shitty people in a shitty record store wearing a shitty apron which is just _dumb,_ because the only thing coming into contact with him are records and the shelves they sit on, because he's clumsy. Another thing he's tired of! His shitty sense of balance! And his shitty wobbly ass boots that are a size too big on him that his father gave him because he thought they would make him look _presentable._ Newsflash, old man. They _don't_ make him look presentable. They make him look _homeless_. Like he couldn't pick up a less shittier pair that costs literally a dollar more at a shitty _Payless_ store!

 

     He's sick of the shitty girls and the shittier boys and even the shitty people who fall in between, though he _highly_ doubts that there's _anyone_ here who wasn't born with a giant declaration of loyalty to the Confederacy on their back besides himself, and at this rate, he's scared to find out. He's sick of the shitty _weather_ — it's always sunny out. That's not how weather works! What gives?!— and the shitty cuisine— even his _mom_ is starting to cook like seasoning doesn't exist???— and the shitty music that plays on the shitty little stereo in his bedroom. Country music and repetitive pop songs. If he hears that _Sweet but Psycho_ song one more time he's pretty sure he's gonna go full-on psycho and not so much sweet. Maybe they'll send him to a shitty psych ward. Maybe there he'll feel like he's not losing his mind every time someone asks him how he is and _ignores_ his answer! How rude is that?! See, shitty etiquette. He's not too upset about that, considering he's a walking cluster of sarcasm and awkwardly placed communication skills, but still. Shitty.

 

   Tl;dr? He's ready to drop everything and go. Just go. Maybe sneak onto a cruise somewhere and stay at whatever island it drops off first. Hitchhike on the highway until a nice trucker with two daughters and a beagle comes to take him to the next town over. Maybe even ship himself to Canada via box. _Anything_ will work at this point.

 

 “I'm moving to Canada,” he mutters into his Cheerios. He imagines that the little circles are tiny alarm clocks that don’t work, and the spoon is his _fist_ . He switches between aggressively spooning them into his mouth and smashing them into _mush_. “I’m  going to Canada and I’m never coming back unless it’s Christmas. Maybe.”

 

“Good,” Krolia quips, sliding another bowl of cereal next to him. “You can take your sister with you.”

 

  The sister, Romelle, the only blonde with blue eyes that doesn’t freak Keith out to no end, grins up at her brother, being sure to show off the two front teeth that fell out the night before. Simultaneously. No one really wants to know the specifics of how _that_ happened, considering how… _adamant_ she is about getting her tooth fairy money. They all hide behind the belief that _maybe_ they just decided to get _super loose_ at two in the morning. So loose she screamed and hollered for thirty five minutes out of pure joy.

 

     She points to the hole in the front of her mouth. “We can go togeffer! I'll pay for it wiff my tooff faiwy money!!!”

 

 Keith grins and ruffles her hair, pushing her head away. Romelle is probably one of the few things that _aren't_ shitty about his life right now. And she's a _blonde._

 

“No. You can't pay for two people to go live in Canada with your tooth fairy money. I appreciate the thought, but no. Where’s dad? I’m already late and I can’t just—”

 

“‘Course I can!” Romelle shouts in all of her six year old glory, a small scowl on her face. “She's gotta pay me _double!_ Two teef, two payments.”

 

“Oh yeah, because the tooth fairy is _so_ reliable. Mom —”

   “Mom! Keef is being mean to the toof fairy again!!”

 

Okay. So maybe, sometimes, he feels like Romelle is one of _the_ shittiest parts of his life. He knows he never means it, but when he feels it, its bone-deep.

 

  “Whatever you say, Blondiecakes,” Keith sighs out, standing up from his place at the table and rushing to drop his bowl in the sink. _“I'm going to school._ Don't wait up for me.”

 

 “And why's that?” Texas, his dear old dad asks as he comes thundering down the stairs.(No one knows why he's called Texas. They live nowhere near there. It baffles Keith to no end, but he's too scared to find out at this point). He swoops Romelle up in his arms and sits her on his hip, raising a brow at the teen who's _itching_ to leave. “Hanging out with the band after school? Visiting the girlfriend? Smoking pot? C'mon, lay it on us.”

 

  Keith stares at his father, a look of horror crossing his face. “Studying. I need to _study._ God, what is _wrong_ with you??”

 

 Texas laughs, and he hightails it out of the door before he can say anything stupid like _that's not even your daughter by blood._ Of course she isn't. She's _adopted._ “I'm leaving!”

 

 “Wait a minute, Keith,” Krolia yelps, snatching him by the straps of his bag. He has half a mind to wriggle away before she can yank him into a _hug_ or some shit, but she doesn't hug him. Instead, she drops a sandwich inside of his bag. “Have a good day, Doll.”

 

   Keith finds himself going in for that hug. “I will. _Bye._ ”

 

 When he finally makes it outside, his best friend, Allura Alaine, is already waiting for him at the end of the driveway, skateboard resting on her shoulders and her hair tied up in a messy bun. She too, is one of the few things in his life that aren't inherently shitty. She lifts her star-shaped sunglasses off of her eyes and gives him the once over. “Rat casual today. Hot.”

 

    “Shut up,” Keith snorts, after giving _himself_ an up-down really quickly. He's got on a t-shirt and jeans with a plaid shirt tied around his waist, and sneakers. What's so ratty about that?

 

(Well, everything, but he doesn't have to admit that.) He tosses his bag inside of the car and holds the door open. “So are you getting in today, or am I getting the rope? You have two second to decide, we’re already late and— ... We’re _late_. Why are you here??”

 

 Allura sighs, throwing her hand over her forehead like some damsel in distress. “As much as I _want_ to use the rope, I can't. Dad is showing up for both an _impromptu_ parent conference _and_ a student assembly thing about drunk driving. Dunno when though. And _no,_ I wasn't his inspiration, so you can stop looking at me like that. So no, no _sick_ road skiing on this fine Monday morning, I’ve gotta stay clean for at least this week to avoid his bullshit. And I’m here ‘cause I love ya!”

 

  Keith stares at her for a few seconds. She deflates a little. “I didn’t want to give my dad a reason to drive me to school. Lord knows what he’d do.”  

 

   “Oh of course. Imagine, the great Alfor, discovering that his daughter hates going to first period, drinks wine coolers almost religiously, is a _total_ pothead, and has to hang on to the back of her farmer best friend's truck to get to school every day. Well, she doesn't _have_ to, but you'd think she does.”

 

“Spoken like a true farmer's boy,” Allura teases as she swings the passenger door open. She clambers inside and shuts the door beside her, popping her skateboard in the back seat. “Except with no yee and even less haw.”

 

   “I think you mean a cowboy?”

 “I meant what I said, Kogane. Now drive before I tell Romelle you're being a dick to the tooth fairy again.”

 

 Keith mock-whines in reply and starts the car, pulling out of the driveway soon after. “Totally only driving 'cause I would _like_ to be on time for first period today, _Alaine.”_

 

  Allura holds her arms above her head, like an innocent. “Whaaat? I _go_ to first period. Periodically. At some periods of time. _Don't look at me like that,_ you don't exactly _help,_ you know!”

 

 She crosses her arms across her chest, turning her wrist over so that she can check the time. “Besides. We’ve already missed homeroom.”

 

“Oh no no no, I'm simply the boy you come _looking_ for when you're skipping or bored. And that’s my point! We’re already _late.”_

   “Well you're my best friend, and you're the only bitch I trust when I'm skipping or I'm bored. Or _anything,_ really.  We've talked about this. It's been _established_ already.”

 

 Keith can't help but laugh. “Oh I know. It's just nice to know that people with money are just as emotionally fucked as I am.”

 

  “Glad to be of service. Now drive like my name is Daisy and I'm wearing arm-length gloves, _por favor_.”

•

Traffic. This place has shitty traffic, too. For a small town, an awful lot of people like to drive at the same goddamn time in the morning. Who knew?

• 

 Other than the five routine minutes Keith spends yelling for some dickbag with a receding hairline to actually drive, the ride to school goes without a sitch.

 

   (Or, more like a thirty minute sitch. They’d stopped for doughnuts and coffee on the way, standing around outside to mock the police officers with _their_ coffee and doughnuts; only to find themselves scrambling for Keith's car when one of them drops their doughnut in favor of marching towards them. So, in all reality, other than the nearly getting possibly _arrested_ bit, and the already having been late, they get to school in… relatively okay time.)

 

 “Bel-Air High,” Allura drawls as Keith pulls into the student parking lot. “Where your dreams go to rot and your will to live dies.”

 

 She's not entirely wrong, Keith thinks. For a school _this_ big, you'd think it wouldn't be so suffocating. He stops the car and leans back in his seat. “... You know, I told you I wanted to be in school on time today.”  
  
  “You’re also the one who decided to turn on Moravia instead of Diggs. _And_ you wanted a fucking chocolate lava doughnut. I just supported you. You can’t _blame me_ for being a supportive _friend.”_

    “I'm kicking you out of my car. Shoo.”

 

   Allura shoots him a puppy-eyed look. “Hotbox in the car, first? I stopped by Matt's today, he gave me three quarters  in exchange for COD Black Ops.”

 

 “... As tempting as that sounds? We're already late. And? Didn't you just say earlier your dad is coming??”

 “Alright, but I didn't say _when._ Wait… did I?”

 

 Keith rolls his eyes with the force of the wind and leans over, shoving Allura by the shoulder. “Get out!”

 

   With a groan, Allura relents, grabbing her skateboard and bookbag from the backseat of Keith's car and slamming the door behind her. “Love you too!” Keith yells through the window. Allura flips him off, but grins at him all the same.

 •

  They walk inside the school together. From a certain angle, you'd think they were holding hands. From _every_ angle, you’d know that they were _definitely_ a two man party (Or not, depending on how Allura is feeling on any given day, but that's beside the point). Their principal, Ms. Evans, gives them the once-over from her place beside the raccoon plaque stationed in the middle of the grand hall, and comes stalking over to scold them.

 

 “Keith Kogane and Allura Dupont—”

 "Alaine,” Allura interrupts. “Dupont is my father's name. _My_ name is Allura _Alaine_ , Meredith.”

 

  Evans gawks, eyes wide in surprise, like every other day. Allura calls her Meredith more than she calls her Evans, and it shocks her every time. Keith decides to step in before she has some sort of heart attack. “Good morning, Miss. Evans.”

    She seems to be satisfied with his tone, before she’s wagging her finger in their faces. “You’re late. _Again._ You’ll need a pass.”  
  
 God, Keith hates the finger wags. He’s half tempted to bite it off. “We’ve got a pass, Miss Evan. They’re in our bookbags, though, and you know how long it takes for us to find passes.”  
  
 A few seconds go by, and he starts to wonder whether this is it, whether this is the day she’ll actually make them go through their bookbags to produce an actual late pass, but as always, Meredith lets them off with a warning  and gestures for them to continue walking to class. Keith can't fathom how the hell they manage to get away with it almost every time.

 

 (Shitty teaching. Another thing on the list.)

 

 “Nice save, Kogane,” Allura teases, bumping their shoulders together. “You’ve got such a way with words I almost forgot how antisocial you are.”

 

 Keith rolls his eyes at her and stops at his locker, fumbling around with the combination lock to get it open. “I really should pull out my inner diplomat  more often when I'm around her. Maybe it'll catapult me into a college or something. Maybe your _dad_ will recruit me.”

   “Oh God. I love you, but I'm begging you not to go there. My dad is an _ass._ You know this! You've _seen_ it.”

 

 She isn't lying. Keith can't even _count_ the amount of times he's watched her get chewed out by her dad over the course of their friendship.

 (It's been fifty-eight times. That's a _lot_ of times. And that's just counting when he was _there._ )

 

 Before he can respond with some snarky remark about how one paycheck from her dad could have him living at Niagara Falls by November, Katie Holt comes running up behind them, waving her tablet in the air. Katie is another one of Keith’s closest friends. She’s  the shortest girl in the class, the girl who suckerpunched school playboy Tobias Havenich in the nose during last year’s winter ball for calling her a carrot, and the self-proclaimed tech master of all the world. Or just their high school. No one ever disputes it, though, because how can you dispute something that’s actual fact?

 

  “Hey! Hey you guys! _Phew._ I thought I'd never catch up with you two. _Jeez.”_

 

“Hi, Katie,” Allura laughs, standing her upright in case she _collapses_ in front of her. “Why were you running. More importantly, why were you _running_ at us?”

 

      “Had to warn you guys,” Katie wheezes, leaning against Allura’s  shoulder for stability, “Preston is a no-show. We've got a substitute. _And_ a new student. _Two_ of them, actually. And how come you two weren’t in homeroom? Tell me you at least went to first period today?”  
  
 Allura shrugs. “Breakfast is important.”  
  
   “You know, it is a miracle you two aren't fucking failing. Anyways! Back to the important shit. We’ve got new kids.”

 

 Keith internally groans, pulling his bag from off of his shoulders and stuffing it into his locker.  “Not this again.”

 

   New students, here? Never good news. The kids that transfer here are either juvenile delinquents in need of their “own space” for a couple of months, awkward kids whose parents had just gotten divorced, or foreign exchange students. You can imagine how easy it is for all three of these kinda kids to blend in with the small town vibe.  Hell, he's still debating if _he's_ gotten to fit in yet. Probably not, considering he only hangs around other transfers and people who blatantly express they don't belong here —# _Mood_ — but at least the constant mean mugging has reached a minimum. He's a little afraid of how many fights he's gonna have to intercept with _these_ two, or if he’ll even be _able_ to intercept them.

 

     “Great. More new ones. It's gonna be a repeat of Matthew v. Johanneson, ‘18. _That_ was fun.”

 

 “To be fair, no one asked you to body slam the biggest football player known to man,” Katie points out, turning on her heels and walking to class, “Even though he definitely deserved it. C'mon, I'm already here, I don't wanna be late.”

 

 “We’re already late.” Keith retorts. “Two periods late, actually—”  
  
   “Homeroom doesn’t count,” Allura interrupts, “so we only missed one. Come on, Keith! You heard Katie. We’ve got a _substitute_ . Free period!”  
  
Keith laughs and rolls his eyes as he pulls his calculus textbook out of his locker. He slams the door closed again. “You know he always leaves lessons for us. Make sure you bring your textbook.”  
  
 Allura groans as dramatically as she can. “You’re no fun, Kogane. I’ll see you inside, then.” 

 

 Now. It's important to note that the first thing Keith notices when he walks into class, is how everyone is paying a whole lotta attention… to the class. As in, no one is on their phone, doodling in their notebook, or talking amongst themselves. They're listening intently to the substitute, who's introducing the new students. Or, trying to, anyways. A substitute can only do but so much. Which leads him to the second thing he notices.

 

_Oh shit._

 

 Suddenly, he understands why no one is exactly ignoring them right now. They're two boys, one about the same color as the chocolate that Romelle promised their grandmother she'd eat, the other leaning more towards hazelnut. He doesn't know why he's comparing them to _food,_ but he may have a goddamn idea.  

 

  The taller one that looks like he came straight out of a chocolate bar is idly leaning against the edge of the teacher's desk, clad in plaid dress pants— something that he should _not_ make look so good— and a black sweater with a simple-looking golden necklace hanging around his neck. He's got dark brown eyes and an undercut, and at the top what looks to be the beginnings of locs. Keith remembers seeing that same hairstyle around when he lived in the city.

 

 His companion has an undercut as well, evident from the tiny tuffs of curly brown hair poking out from just under his snapback, a sharper nose and eyes the color of the sea. Dark enough to make you do a double-take, at least. He's got on a denim jacket with the sleeves folded up, and bead bracelets on both of his wrists. His jeans are pretty tight on him from what Keith can see;  something he's sure this _entire_ classroom is appreciating right now.

He… still hasn't moved, he realizes. Allura walks in after him, freezing at the doorway with widened eyes. “What the—”   

  _“Shhh,”_ one of the girls hisses, waving her hand at her and turning back to the front. Allura rolls her eyes, and Keith motions for Allura to come in. Katie comes in right after and slinks her way to her seat in the front, while Keith and Allura sit down in the back. The substitute smiles. “Lance, Ryan? Is there anything you'd like to say to the class?”

 

 The darker, taller boy with the brown eyes cringes. “Kincade.”  

  “Right! I'm sorry. Lance and _Kincade._ Anything you'd like to share?”

 

  “Sure thing,” the other, who Keith presumes is named Lance, quips. “Hey. I'm Lance McClain. This is my buddy Ryan Kincade, but he goes by Kincade, so please don't call him Ryan.”

 

 He shoots their teacher a meaningful glance, making half of the class giggle before continuing. “We're from the city. You're probably wondering why the hell a couple of city kids would transfer _here_ of all places, and believe me, I've asked the same question since we _got_ here, but… let's just say we like how quiet it is.”

 

    Keith can hear the sarcasm in his voice clear as day. It's obvious that he's lying, and it makes him grin. So he's not the only one who got moved out of the city by force. Lance turns to Kincade and asks if he has anything to add, who says no, and then he drops _this_ bomb. “Oh, and I'm bisexual. Just to avoid any misgivings or 'omg what is he’ conversations you small-town folk like to have. So happy to be here.”

 

  He catches Keith staring at him with an invisible weight in his mouth, and winks. Keith immediately closes his mouth, and Lance grins at him, gesturing for Ryan to follow him so they can sit. Allura lets out a low whistle from behind Keith, leaning against the palm of her hand.

 

 “You were right, Kogane. They're _definitely_ trouble.”

 

     The rest of the class break out into frenzied conversation amongst themselves, and once the substitute — whose name is Regina, Keith learns, which _baffles_ him, because _what kind of Regina settles for being a substitute teacher_ —  has fully processed everything Lance just said, she begins instruction again. Keith steals a glance at where Lance and Kincade are sitting, watching as they pull out their notebooks and pencils so that they can take notes. For some reason, he knew they weren't going to be the stereotypical lazy city boys. He should've known that the second Lance said “I'm bisexual” in front of about thirty five small-town teenagers.  

  Keith is... jealous, so to speak. He considers himself openly gay, sure, but it was only through time that people picked up on it. He didn't roll up into this brand new school and declare that he was gay. He could _never_ do that. Even _Allura_ had been wary of outing herself. And she's _Allura._  So you can imagine how he feels about the whole situation.

 

      He steals another glance. And another. Watching as the two of them sit with their legs crossed, paying more attention than anyone else in the class _combined_ . That goes to say, normally, Keith would be paying attention by now. Allura too, if she wasn’t so focused on her best friend that’s focused on the new boys who are actually focused on the lesson the substitute gave out. It’s not fair, he thinks, how a couple of boys could come in and just outright ruin his resolve to pay attention in his second favorite class. Sure, Preston isn’t there, but he leaves interesting lessons no matter what. And Keith can’t even _pay any attention_ to it.

 

   He eyes the back of Lance’s jacket, and a part of him is surprised that there isn’t anything on the back. No giant emblem. Not even a name. Nothing. His gaze shifts from his jacket to the back of his neck, and he watches as the boy pulls his hat off of his head, revealing, as Keith had thought, a whole lotta curly hair, almost auburn in color. There are splotches of white just around his collar, Keith notices, and if he looks even closer, it’s on his arm too. What is that called? Vertigo? Vigils? He can never remember. He’ll just look it up when he gets home.

 

  Unfortunately, he’s interrupted when Allura whispers “Hey,” as she taps his shoulder from behind. “I don’t mean to break your little uh. Inspection, but you are aware he’s looking back at you, right?”  
  
“Mhm.” Keith hums in response, raising an eyebrow as he looks down to his sneakers, and up again, past his jacket and up to his earrings and— oh. _Oh._ Oh _shit._ “Fuck!”

 

 The entire class turns to look at him, and he really wishes that he could play it off like he dropped his pencil, or he has a massive headache, or he’s really frustrated with what the fuck theta equals thirty two means. He wishes that it didn’t look like exactly what it was— a stupid gay realizing that the guy he was staring at? Was staring _back._

 

  They stare at each other for another heart-stopping second. Lance’s lips curl up into a small grin, and Keith is sure that if he smiles any harder, God herself will probably burst into the classroom and take him away.

 

  He waves his fingers in the air and mouths out a “Hi”. Keith continues to stare at him, and after a few seconds, he offers a wave, or… a short jerk of his hand , and abruptly turns back to his lesson, curling his fingers in his hair to avoid letting his head fall against the top of the desk. His face is burning, eyes wide as he looks over the math problems on his paper. At this rate? Fuck math. Lance is still staring at him, he can _feel_ it.  

 

 Because he’s an idiot, he looks up again, only to see Lance is still watching him. _“I think this is the part where you say hi back.”_  He mouths. Keith offers him a small, incredibly awkward smile.  

 

_“Hi.”_

 

Lance grins even harder. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead flips to a clean piece of paper in his notebook and carefully pulls it out. He quickly scribbles something out, folds it up into a neat little square, and slides it across the floor. The paper hits Keith’s desk, and he picks it up to open it.

 

      _I never caught your name, Mullet._

 

Keith rolls his eyes a little, and deciding to humor him, writes back.

      _I never threw it._

 

When Lance gets the paper back, he laughs a little, nudging Kinkade so that he can read the note himself. Keith decides to pay attention to his work, and just as he picks his pencil up, the paper hits his foot again.

 

   _You don’t have to. I play soccer, so I’d be very grateful if you kicked it to me instead._

 

   Keith can’t help but snort, and he turns back to face Lance again, who’d been watching him for a reaction.  
  
  _“Keith.”_ He mouths. He even kicks at the air for emphasis. Lance raises his eyebrows and kicks his feet under his desk, like he’s got a soccer ball in between them. He kicks in Keith’s direction.

 

     _“Nice name, pardner.”_

 

  Keith flushes a little and turns his attention away from Lance, curling in on himself as much as he possibly can sitting at his desk. It isn’t until Ryan murmurs something about _x_ being a clingy son of a bitch that Keith feels Lance’s eyes shift off of him, and in that moment, Keith has to thank God for shitty math jokes. Allura snickers behind him, and he blindly reaches back to smack her _wherever_ he can reach.  
  
  “Ow!” Daisy Longhold, the girl who sits next to Allura, cries. “What the fuck, man?”  
  
 “Sorry.” Keith mutters. Even though he hadn’t meant to hit her, he doesn’t really like her, so there’s not much harm done anyways.

  

 His phone vibrates, and he pulls it out of his pocket to see a text message alert from Allura.

 

    **Allurate Me Five Stars On Uber Pls** **  
** _You know, for someone who hates attention, you sure do know how to attract it._

 

Keith doesn’t need to look around for him to know what she’s talking about. He looks up anyways, though, watching Lance from the corner of his eyes. Lance is swatching him again, it seems, and it makes Keith want to squirm in his seat. The last time somebody watched him like that? He almost got _laid_.

 

   He raises his brows behind his bangs, tilting his head at Lance.

    “ _Yes?”_

  Lance tilts his head in turn, and that little smile makes its way back onto his face. He shakes his head a little, and turns back towards Ryan. He doesn’t look at him for the rest of the class.

 

     Keith mentally shrugs it off. He doesn’t need to be getting distracted by the likes of Lance and Ryan anyways. They’d just be trouble. All the new kids turn out to be, whether they’re trying or not.

 

 Although, he kinda wishes he would’ve turned to look at him at least once.

   Once class is over, the entire room clears out within seconds. Keith finds himself standing next to Allura’s locker, while Allura takes her time shrugging her jacket back onto her shoulders.  “Ma’am, how long does it take for you to get your shit so that we can go?”  
  
 “As long as it takes for me to get my shit so that we can go.” Allura retorts. “Transitioning from class to class is an art not many can perfect.”  
  
 “I dunno, it takes me about five seconds to get my shit and about two minutes to walk down the hall to my next class…. And  I seem to be doing just fine in my classes.”  
  
   “Well, that’s just because you’re a freak of nature. You can do anything, I’m sure of it.” Allura says as she slams her locker closed and hugs her anatomy textbook to her chest. “I’m but a basic bitch.”  
  
 “You’re very far from it,” Keith snickers, and then he’s staring down the hallway. At a certain snapback covering a certain head of curly auburn hair. “... ‘Llura?”  
  
     “Yeah?”  
  
Keith taps his fingernails against the cover of his technology textbook. “... I have decided that Lance McClain is not going to ruin my life.”  
  
 Allura chokes on her spit. “What??”  
  
  “I read about it somewhere, about how attractive people like that can ruin your life. And I’m not letting him ruin mines. It’s already shitty enough.”  
  
 Allura barks out a laugh, shoving Keith on his shoulder. “You saying I ruined your life?”  
  
 “Well, only the platonic part. Now I can’t be friends with anyone who doesn’t know what _Queer Eye_  or who Marie Kondo is.”

  
 “Ah, I didn’t ruin your life, then. I _enriched_ it. I gave it _flavor_. A _spark._ Who knows? Maybe this McClain kid will do the same.”  
  
Keith shakes his head and watches Lance disappear into a classroom. Thankfully, it's not the same class he needs to be getting to. He hates that he was genuinely worried they'd have a class together back to back. He hates how much Lance has already affected him, when they haven't even had a proper _conversation_ yet. He hates a _lot of shit_ today, but this? This takes the fucking cake.

 

   He narrows his eyes. “I highly doubt that.”

•

  His next class, theory of knowledge, rushes by like it does any other day. It's Keith's favorite class, after all. His teacher, Adam Winchester, goes out of his way to make Ryan feel welcomed, and makes sure to call him Kinkade with every interaction they have. He's considerate like that. If Keith was to ever want to be a teacher, he'd want to be just like Adam.

     During lunch, Keith whips out the uneaten half of his lava cake doughnut, perched up on a slap of concrete beside his table and listening to his friends gush about how their day has been going so far. Keith has a relatively large circle, even though he doesn’t like people all that much, but it feels nice hanging with them. The people at his table consist of Allura (obviously), Katie, Hunk— the King Of Home Economics (who also gives really good advice) —, Nadia — who, like kinkade, would rather people call her by her last name Rizavi—, Ina— generally known by his last name Leifsdotter—, and Roland, who goes by Rolo. Roland isn’t there, though.  James Griffin— who everybody calls Griffin at all times— is, but no one pays him much mind unless its to tell him to stop hovering over the table.

 

 For lunch? Hot dogs with beans.

 

  “This shit is disgusting.” Allura stage whispers. Ina holds his hand out for her tray, and she gives it to him without a second thought.  Keith also gives his lunch to Ina, taking a bite out of his doughnut.

“You think that everything that isn’t straight from a five star restaurant is disgusting, Allura.”

   “Not true! I think cheez-its are fucking _magnificent._ And they’re four stars, max.”  
  
“Bullshit,” Rizavi interjects, sounding offended as all hell, “Cheez-its are worth _five stars_ , you bigoted _swine_ . You absolute heathen.”  
  
 “Choke on a granulated cylinder, Riza,” Allura laughs. She jumps a little, like she’s just remembered something, and turns to smack Keith on the thigh.  “Hey, cowboy. You gonna tell our dear friends how you gushed over one of the new kids today?” she asks, beaming up at him and popping a cheez-it in her mouth. He flushes a little and scowls.  
  
   “I was not gushing.”  
  
“Oh? There’s two?” Hunk asks. “I have one of them in my ceramics class. Ryan? Really quiet, but um. Really cute.”  
  
  Katie lets out a whistle, ducking down to avoid a milk carton getting thrown in her face mere seconds later. “Aii! Hunk!”  
  
“You’re not allowed to come for me, Katie 'If-Plaxum Sees Me Ever I'll Literally Die' Holt. Anyways, Keith?”  
  
    Keith rolls his eyes. “... Lance. I was _not_ gushing, but...He’s cute. I’m allowed to acknowledge when someone is cute! Cute is cute! Doesn’t mean I’m interested.”  
  
“Yet,” Allura adds. “Not interested _yet.”_

 

    Keith shakes his head and turns to face the doors, only to see Lance walking in after Ryan. He freezes, and Lance immediately starts grinning at him. He waves. _“Hi.”_

  
Keith’s lips quirk up a bit, and he returns the wave, this one not as awkward as the last, and mouths back a _“Hi,”_ of his own. Lance brightens up all over again, biting down on his lip, and Keith can’t help it. He smiles back.  
  
 Ryan waves to get Lance’s attention just before they disappear around the corner, and Allura pops her lips. “Oh yeah. Definitely not interested yet.”  
  
  Keith decides he’d rather stuff his face with his doughnut than dignify that with a response.

 •

   It turns out, Keith has another class with Lance; technology class, the same one he shares with Hunk. Well, he also shares Theory of Knowledge with Hunk, but Ryan is in that class, and Keith doesn’t feel his eyes on him every five seconds. The entire class is partnered up to work on a video game, and as you may have guessed, Hunk is Keith’s partner.  Hunk, the king of Home Ec, who has to keep reminding Keith that their codes aren’t going to write themselves out, but Keith can’t stop watching Lance out of the corner of his eye.

 

  He jumps when Hunk hits him over the head with a ruler. _“Ow—”_

 “Keith, I know this isn’t your favorite class, but—”  
  
  “Of course this is my favorite class,” Keith protests as he rubs the back of his head. He watches as Lance laughs with Nyma, a blonde with blue eyes that _does_ freak Keith out to no end. “You’re here, so it automatically makes it my favorite.”  
  
 “Are you talking to me or Billie Eilish’s Ocean Eyes over there?” Hunk asks, jabbing his thumb in Lance’s direction. Keith flushes a little, and promises that he’ll focus. Except, a part of him really wants to see what Lance is doing again. For once, he’s glad that the school has A and B days, and that he won’t have to see Lance tomorrow because it’ll be chemistry tomorrow, and no one picks _chemistry_ as a class here. Everyone’s too busy wanting to dissect frogs and shit. Keith takes comfort in it.

  He takes comfort in it even more when Hunk hands him a folded piece of paper. “From Ocean Eyes,” he says, never looking up from his keyboard. Keith slowly takes the paper from him, and he looks up at where Lance is sitting before he opens the paper. Lance raises his brows and juts his chin towards him. Keith opens the paper.

 

   _You look cute when you’re lost in thought, you know._

 

Keith balls the paper up quicker than lightning, stuffing it in his pocket and turning to face his computer. He manages to look like he’s actually interested in what’s on the computer screen for… ten seconds max, and then he’s slumping onto the desk with his arms crossed over his head. His face is hot. He wants to _die_.

 

  Hunk sighs like a disappointed mother, still typing away on the computer. “Knew I shouldn’t have given you that note.”  
  
 “Shut up.”

  
     AP lit goes by quickly as well, much to Keith's surprise. He guesses it's because of how much satisfaction he got out of watching James Griffin stare at the back of Kinkade's head over the course of the class. And for once, the book they're being assigned looks like it could be worth his attention. AP drawing is a breeze, as always. He spends about half of the class perched on the paw of the raccoon statue in the main hall, idly drawing any stray kids who happen to pass by. He even strikes up a conversation with a few of them. So the day....Isn't looking half bad, after all. Sure, there's new kids, one of them who he can't seem to shake off of his conscience, but maybe it's not so much of a big deal as he thou—

 "Hey there, Mullet."   
  
    _Or not,_ Keith thinks as he jumps about.. mmm thirty feet in the air and almost drops his pens, notebook and _entire body_ , onto the floor. "Jesus Christ— do you always just appear places or?" 

 He huffs through his nose as Lance laughs. In his defense, it's a nice laugh. A _very_ nice laugh, actually. Why the fuck is Keith so attracted to his laugh?? "Ha ha ha. What are you doing out here? You don't have a pass."   
  
   Lance tilts his head at him, leaning against the raccoon's chest. "What a coincidence. You don't have one either. What a _badass_ you are, skipping class to draw right in front of the exit." 

 Keith narrows his eyes and grinds his jaw, willing his cheeks to keep fucking calm for once. "I'm not skipping class. My teacher just lets us have free range sometimes."   
  
   "Mhm, and my teacher believes in open pastures and no antioxidants being injected into my food," Lance says in turn, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "Says it's better for our upkeeping, and we make better meat that way."   
  
  "Fuck off," Keith spits, which... is surprising, even for him, because he's built up a high tolerance for dumbassery during his time here, and yet Lance somehow manages to strike some primal nerve deep in his soul. "...Sorry."   
  
    "Don't apologize. You're cute when you're pissed. I like it." 

Keith fumbles with his pencils all over again, and he decides that you know what, maybe it's time to go back to class. "I'm sorry— do you need something? Like, from me. What do you want from me? Exactly?"   
  
  "Your attention," Lance hums, tapping his fingers against his temples. Keith can see more splotches of white now. He leans forward on impulse to see, but Lance is quick to hide his hands behind his back. "Which I've got now. I gotta ask, though."   
  
    He pushes forward, closing the gap between them a little too quickly for Keith to comprehend, and stops just before he can potentially break Keith's nose. Deep sea blue sinks into a galaxy. "What do you want from me?" 

 Keith's eyes widen, so much so he's surprised he can't see behind him at this point. He stares back at Lance, whose lips slowly curve up into a devastating smirk. He can easily count his freckles if he wants to. He can _kiss_ him if he wants to.  

 

   Does he want to?   
  
 "I want to go to class." 

    

   Lance raises an eyebrow.  _Go on._ Keith clears his throat. "I want you to walk me to class."   
  


The boy with the blue eyes grins at him, pushing off of the statue and standing upright with his hands in his pocket. Keith glances at his arms. No sign of white splotches anymore. He notices that Lance... still hasn't moved. "...Are you seriously about to walk me to class?"   
  
  Lance smirks. "You wanted me to, right?" 

  
  
    The walk back to Keith's classroom only lasts about two minutes, but for Keith? It feels like a lifetime. Every other second he's looking over at Lance, but Lance is looking ahead, with his hands in his pockets and a tiny bounce in his step. The beads on his bracelets clink together as he walks. Soon enough it's the only sound Keith can hear in the hallway, other than the simple _what the fuck_ rave going on in his chest right now. When they finally reach their destination, Keith stops at the doorway and turns back to face him.   
  
  "You know, I don't know what you're trying to do here, but it's not working. And it's not gonna work. I don't need another dumb new kid under my belt."   
  
     "You _sure_ you don't want me under your belt, Mullet?" 

Keith rolls his eyes and marches into the classroom. He plops down in a chair next to Ina, who's drawing what looks to be the ocean residing on top of a bed of stars. When he sees that Keith is staring, he shuts his notebook. Keith doesn't blame him. "...Any inspo for that?"   
  
    Ina jabs a finger in the direction of the doorway. "Your boyfriend." 

Keith doesn't respond. He's too busy holing up in his chair to even _try_. 

 

 After school, Keith makes his way back to his car, and waits for his best friend to join him. When Allura finally does come outside, he slips into the driver’s seat, and she drops herself down in the passenger seat, already making plans. "Okay, so Plaxum said she'll hook us up with a couple of wine coolers on her way to work, and I'm fucking craving a burger. A Five Guy s burger. But seriously, imagine that! A nice burger with some fries and a wine cooler. God, I want it right now. Anyways, Keith, what say you? I'm starving."   
  
 Keith narrows his eyes at the steering wheel in front of him,  and without a second thought, faceplants into it. The car horn starts blaring, Allura jumps so high she hits her head on the roof of the car, and all he can do is—  “HaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”  
  
   _”Jesus fucking Christ,_ Keith, fucking _stop it_ you’re gonna get us in _trouble—”_

“ — AAAAAAAA what the _FUCK—”_

      “ — They’re gonna call campus police on us if you don’t stop beeping the horn with your forehead— “  
  
   “ — He kept staring at me in Preston’s class and I swear I could feel it in my soul—”  
  
    “ — and now people are _stariiiing_ Keith stop beeping the _horn—”_  
  
“ —  and his stupid fucking _notes—”_

“Keith? Friend? You should _really_ stop beeping the horn—”

 _“ —_ and his note in _tech class—”_ __  
  
  “ — I _seriously_ recommend sitting up right about now—”

 “ — and that _stunt_ he pulled in the _hallway_  holy shit I almost had a heart attack—"   
  
  "—I can see it now, they're gonna call _my_ dad and they're gonna call _your_ dad and it's just gonna be one big _dad conference_ 'cause you don't know how to be _gay in silence—"_  
  
     "—I almost spontaneously combusted—"  
  
"Oh come _on_ , Keith—"  
  
 "—I almost fucking died—"  
  
  _"Keith—"_  
  
 "—I have two entire classes with him and I literally cannot talk to him to his face without sounding like some fucking damsel in distress and I’m _literally_ gonna fucking _die—”_  
  
  _“Keith!”_ Allura finally screeches. “ _Stop beeping the fucking car horn!”_    
 

Keith lifts his head from off of the wheel and throws himself back in his seat, staring out of the windshield. A beat passes, and then he’s whirling around and jabbing a finger into her shoulder. “You know, I’m kind of having a fucking _crisis_ over here, and all you’re worried about is the _police_ , and _I’m_ feeling _very_ attacked right now!”  
  
 Allura stares at him like a third eye just appeared on his forehead. _“Excuse me_ for being concerned about getting detained for making _loud noises_ when _you’re_ the one having a gay crisis! Also, I gotta ask. What did he do in the hallway?"   
  
  Keith... Doesn't really have an answer. He doesn't really know for himself, yet. "...I don't know. He did get really close, though. And he walked me to class."   
  
 "Memorable quotes said right before pregnancy."   
  
  “This friendship is canceled.”  
  
Allura barks out a laugh and slaps the top of the dashboard. “Boo hoo. Drive the damn car, Kogane.”

 “I’m stopping by the fucking chik-fil-a,” Keith mutters, “So that I can spend money on organizations that want me dead and stuff my face with decent fucking food.”  
  
  “Spear the queers,” Allura cheers with a fist in the air, and Keith rolls his eyes in half-hearted annoyance.  
  
 “Yeah yeah, spear the queers. Anything you want in particular?”  
  
   “An ending to homosexuality.”  
  
“Something I can buy with actual money, Allura.”  
  
 “Lance McClain.”  
  
_“Allura.”_

  “What?? He could sell for maybe five hundred dollars on the black market, I’m sure of it.”  
  
“This isn’t the _black market,_ this is _Arus.”_  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Allura hums. “...Black market is far more interesting. But not as interesting as your _change of heart_ . What happened to ‘I’m not gonna let Lance McClain ruin my life’, huh?”  
  
 “I fucking knew it—”  
  
“I’m just saying! You were all confident as hell with what you were saying, and five minutes ago you tried to put a dent in your steering wheel _and_ get us escorted off campus by the _cops_ . I think I deserve an explanation.”  
  
  “I mean, it’s not like we _talked_ all that much,” Keith says, “it’s just. When we _did_ talk—”  
  
“Mouth at each other and send a piece of paper across the floor, yes I remember.”    
  
 “...When we did talk—”  
  
     “Silently communicate.”

    Keith glares at her through the mirror. “We _did_ talk, you just weren't there." 

  _“More_ memorable quotes said right before pregnancy.”  
  
“You know what, Allura Dupont?”

  
  “Don’t you _dare—”_  
  
“You can fuck yourself right off of a bridge, that’s what. Fuck yourself off and back on. You bastard child. You daughter of _sin._ Now. What do you want from Kill-a-Queer?”  
  
  Allura crosses her arms and looks out of the window with an ‘angry’ pout. “... Chicken nuggets. And fries.”  
  
 “That it?”  
  
“That stupid kill-a-queer sauce.”  
  
Keith smiles, and for maybe the one and only time for the rest of that summer, Lance McClain stops hoarding all of his thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi... I know the spacings are all janky lmao.  
> All mistakes are, in fact, mines. I have accepted them into my being. I am one with my bullshit.  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Much love, Nala


End file.
